Crucible of War
by Master of The Blood Wolves
Summary: When the Crucible fired, crippled ships and combatants on both sides of the Reaper War found themselves thrown into a new theatre: 1805 during the Napoleonic War. And if time travel wasn't bad enough, there's also dragons to contend with.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to the Dragon's Lair

Chapter I

Unexpected Arrivals

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mass Effect or Temeraire I.P.s.**

**A\N: I don't know how far this will go, but it can't hurt to give it a go.  
****Besides, I've got writer's block and recently finished Blood of Tyrants.**

**Somehow, this idea or something very like it surfaced. It just had to be written down.**

The first thing Alliance Marine Corporal Ivan Crane saw as he awoke on the beach was the back end of his M-7 Lancer.

His first action after folding the weapon and stowing it on his back was to stand, to find himself on a beach under a familiar sky, though judging from the white sandstone cliffs in front of him, he was on the opposite side of the planet to Rio de Janeiro.

A quick equipment check found that he still had his M11-Suppressor maglocked to his thigh and a full supply of medi-gel, thermal clip packs and the stim-cocktails commonly referred to as 'op survival packs.' He was out of cobra missiles though, which wasn't especially reassuring.  
Not surprising considering the gambit the fire team had pulled to take down that Reaper…

With a tired groan, Crane began staggering up the beach towards the rocks. A little shelter wouldn't hurt and he needed the sleep.

* * *

It wasn't often Jeremy Rankin was seen to actually pay attention to Levitas, let alone listen to or talk to him. In fact, the simple fact the pair were going down to the beach near the Dover covert together was seeing several betting pools being collected upon and a lot of mixed feelings for the people losing out.

Levitas had been fretting more than usual recently and Rankin blamed Laurence and his ground crew chief for it. Still, they'd stopped their interference but the damage was done and now Rankin was obliged to try out what the other aviators found so wonderful about spending time with their beasts.

And apparently, Levitas had decided he was going to try swimming in the little bay near the covert.

It was nonsense, but that could again be attributed to Captain Laurence's interference and the bad influence his damnable Imperial set.  
But despite that, there was something faintly enjoyable in seeing Levitas's enthusiasm for the excursion and the gratitude the little Winchester directed towards him. It was even turning out that Levitas was better company than the other aviators and a vast majority of the people of quality who were his preferred society. He was less judgemental at any rate and wasn't one to cast aspersions on his character just because of his profession.

The pair came down to the beach and made their way out onto the strand only for bullets to begin whipping past their ears at an ungodly rate and a hellish cacophony to spring up.

Levitas chirruped and took to the air in instinctive alarm, leaving Rankin wholly exposed and defenseless.

Rankin ducked and looked in the direction the shots had come from to see a group of hellish creatures coming towards him:

Creatures with four soulless white eyes and a gaping maw with some form of arm-mounted cannon and stunted limbs the colour of dried blood, tall spiky creatures hefting strange rifles and wreathing the others in dark magic and demonic parodies of humans that scampered towards him like beasts.

Rankin took one good look at the hellish pack and immediately bolted in the opposite direction up the beach through the rocks. He hadn't made it more than fifty metres before he tripped over a gentleman wearing a full suit of armour asleep in a cluster of rocks with,-thank heavens for small miracles,- a pistol in his lap!

Rankin seized the weapon as the man awoke, turned and shot one of the mockeries of humanity between the eyes.

There was no thunderous report or smoke as he'd expected, instead a muted _phwit!_ sound that was all but drowned out by the cries of the demons coming down the beach.

Rankin had no time for relief as immediately another of the creatures loomed out of the rocks and leapt at his face.

He caught the creature mid-leap and began struggling with it as it attempted to claw his face off, acutely aware that it's fellows were also hunting him.

Then the armoured fellow was on his feet and bludgeoning the creature off of him with the length of what was the strangest rifle Rankin had ever laid eyes on.

'Who the hell are you?' The stranger growled, his voice strangely distorted by his face-hugging helm.  
It was closer in form to a balaclava one might wear on an especially cold flight, but his eyes and sections of his armour glowed with an unnatural, cold blue light.

'Captain Jeremy Rankin, of His Majesty's Aerial Corps.' Rankin supplied immediately as the stranger began leading him through the rocks in the opposite direction of the hellish cacophony.

'What the hell are you doing hunting Reaper forces in that ridiculous get-up? You haven't even got a proper weapon!' The stranger demanded as he vaulted a fallen stone from a landslip a week or two earlier.

'I beg your pardon? Reaper?' Rankin managed as he scrambled over the rock himself. 'I haven't the faintest clue what you mean.'

The stranger wheeled sharply, raised his rifle to his shoulder and pulled the trigger on his rifle, which spat a stream of rounds which left blurred after-images in Rankin's eyes. The shots were rewarded by the sounds of pained-sounding cries and howls from the horde hunting them. The noise was far less than the effect of the weapon would suggest. And still not a trace of smoke either.

'Keep moving, we'll talk as we go.' The stranger suggested, turning and continuing on, sure footed as a mountain goat. 'What year is it to you?' He asked.

'1805. June 28th, if you must know.' Rankin replied.

'Oh, well that's just-' The stranger wheeled and thrust his arm back in the general direction of their pursuers and was suddenly wreathed head-to-toe in crackling blue, projecting a nimbus of blue force back towards their pursuers, where it coalesced into a black sphere that hung in place and seemed to distort the very air.

As Rankin looked on, several of the dark red demons ambled into the sphere's influence and were plucked off the ground.

The stranger turned and began moving again.

'Questions and answers later, right now we need to find a defensible position.' He said.

They continued down the beach, ducking behind rocks at the stranger's behest so he could continue to fire on them.

At this point, Rankin was beginning to wonder if the stranger's gun ever ran out of bullets. And all the while, out of range of the demon's weapons, was Levitas flying in a fretful circle and watching.

'Tiras?' The stranger said all of a sudden in surprise. 'Say again, the line's bad.'

Rankin looked doubtfully at the fellow as he stood back to a pillar with a finger pressed to his ear.

He caught Rankin looking at him.

'Keep firing, pace your shots so that pistol doesn't get too hot. One shot every five or six seconds should keep it cool.' The stranger said, then went back to talking to himself. 'Right,' he looked out to sea. 'Got you, but you'll have to try swimming in yourself, I've got Reapers up my ass and a Victorian soldier the Alliance would class as a civvy I'm trying to keep alive. There's a Harvestor keeping watch at the mouth of the bay and my Lancer and biotics are doing all the heavy lifting, cover is about as scarce as a competent requisitions officer as well.' The stranger said.

It might as well have been Russian as far as Rankin was concerned, it would've made about as much sense. He was too busy following the stranger's example of only leaning out of cover to shoot before ducking back down again and following his advice on pacing his shots to the letter.

So far, the thing hadn't stopped firing and through trial, he began to figure out the universal weakness of the demons: The head.

One or two shots from the strange pistol was enough to put the demons down and it wasn't especially difficult to line up shots.

Indeed, to Rankin's disgust the red ones were pausing to devour the dead.

Rankin somehow managed to swallow his bile and use the corpses to bait the red ones into leaving cover and give him shots.

'Alright, Greenie, can you swim?' The stranger asked, turning to Rankin before mowing down one of the spiky fellows with a ball of blue magic and a three second burst from his gun.  
'No, why on Earth do you need to know?' Rankin asked.  
'I've got a squad mate in the water and the most she can do is tread water. You don't have armour or any ammo for that pistol and you'd be more likely to shoot yourself than those fuckers if I gave you my Lancer. So, we've got to go into the drink so we can pull her out. Besides, that Harvestor is still hanging around. Soon as it gets it's act together, we'll be up to our eyeballs in husks.' The stranger replied.  
'What? Harvestor? I don't know what you're-'  
'The fucking dragon that's hovering out there!' The stranger replied, throwing another of those levitating sphere-things to pull in a few more of the red devils.  
'I don't know what breed a Harvestor is, but that's Levitas. A Winchester.' Rankin replied. 'If you can attract his attention, then I might be able to take him to look for your friend.' He suggested.

The stranger was silent, taking a moment to coldly gun down another rush from the demons hunkering down further down the beach.

'I must've hit my head before I woke up…' He muttered darkly and suddenly an orange gauntlet sprang to life on his left arm. 'He recognise flares?' The stranger asked.

'Send up a white flare and he'll come in.' Rankin replied.  
'I suggest that you move fast, I'll keep these bastards in cover, but they'll start shooting if you take too long and they notice you.' The stranger said, then raised his arm and a dazzling white light shot into the air, hung for a moment, then vanished.

Levitas hesitated, then came dashing in at speed as the stranger continued to fire on the demons.

The stranger handed something to Rankin.

'Put that over your ear.' He instructed.

It took Rankin a second to figure out how, but he managed.

'Can you hear me?' The stranger asked and oddly, Rankin could hear the stranger's voice in his ear clearly.  
'Yes.'  
'Good. Now get going. One last thing: My squad mate isn't human, so don't bother staring, just pull her out of the water then take up a position where she can fire on the beach.' The stranger responded as Levitas landed, doing his best to crouch behind the rocks.

At these words, Rankin wasn't sure what he was getting himself in for, but it couldn't be as bad as fighting the legions of Hell itself.

'Levitas, let's go.' Rankin said and the little Winchester was out over the sea in an instant.

Now that they were over the sea, Rankin noted that the ear-piece had also extended a monocle-like device over his eye, which was showing a name further out to sea and a countdown in what appeared to be metric distance.

His enquiry was met by a brief affirmative. Followed by a roar quite unlike any Rankin had ever heard before.

'_Fuck my life.'_ The stranger growled.  
'What was that?' Rankin asked.  
'_They've got a Brute. Hurry up, otherwise I'm going to get creative to the detriment of the local scenery.'_ He replied. It was mystifying hearing the stranger's voice in his ear as if he was right next to Rankin and he was dying to ask how the ear-piece worked, but he had a job to do.

Rankin glanced back to see a dirty black-grey mass the size of a small dragon with a massive pincer advancing towards the stranger's position.

The name 'Cprl I. Crane' hovered above the stranger's position.

'_Look for orange smoke or a red flare.'_ The stranger, 'Crane,' said as a humming sound and sustained, almost rhythmic gunfire sounded in the background.

Rankin began doing just that and almost immediately ahead, he saw a scarlet light hovering above a speck in the water.

'Levitas, see there, look for someone in the water beneath that flare.' Rankin instructed.  
'Yes, I see her, hang on.' Levitas replied, his tone making it obvious he was burning to ask what precisely was going on besides the blindingly obvious.

He kept his queries to himself however, bless him, choosing to dive towards the figure treading water in the waves instead.

Rankin hadn't known what to expect when the stranger said that this 'squad mate' of his wasn't human, but he hadn't been expecting the creature to be so…human.

She had the basic body shape, but besides the three-digit hands, back-jointed legs, bird feet and full-body suit, her proportions were remarkably similar.

Rankin leaned out from Levitas' side and extended a hand down, which was deftly grabbed by the creature.

As Levitas swooped past, the creature pulled herself up beside Rankin.

'I assume Crane dragged you into this?' She asked, again with a strangely distorted voice.

'The fellow hasn't introduced himself yet, but he did more or less.' Rankin admitted.

'Right, well if you can get us in a good firing position, I'll see about thinning out this little infestation you've got on your hands.' The creature replied, pulling a rectangular block that extended and unfolded into a rifle from where it had been attached to her shoulder somehow.

The simple action of drawing the weapon made it obvious it was advanced beyond anything Rankin could conceive, but as he urged Levitas back to where he'd been flying laps before,-well out of range of most weapons below cannons,-the creature leveled the rifle and fired on one of the red devils, which promptly keeled over dead.

Rankin was more astonished by the level of carnage displayed on the beach.

The 'Brute' was still stalking the beach, but the stranger had absolutely littered it with the corpses of the other creatures.

'_How many more?'_ The stranger asked abruptly.  
'They just keep coming, it looks like they're coming out of that distortion or rift or whatever it is down the opposite end of the beach, but it looks like it's starting to close.' The creature beside Rankin replied.  
'_Right, looks like we'll have to close it then.'_ The stranger said.  
'How?'  
'_By evening the odds a bit.'_

With that, Rankin saw the stranger hurl another blue orb, this time at the cliff, followed by a pulsing wave of energy.

When the energy struck the blue aura that was now dancing on the cliff, the result was an explosion of extraordinary force and as Rankin watched, the cliff began to collapse. The stranger was also starting to run as fast as he could away as the cliff began to crumble. The devils on the beach began to fire at his heels, heedless of the impending danger as with majestic slowness the cliff collapsed.

Abruptly, the collapse increased in speed, boulders, earth and dust flying into the air and crashing down on the beach with a deafening noise.  
A moment passed and the dust settled to reveal the beach was buried.

'Crane?' The creature beside Rankin asked, a note that might have been concern colouring her voice.

A pile of rubble at the extreme right of the landslip shifted and fell away and the stranger climbed unsteadily out.

'_I'll live.'_ Came the slightly strained but otherwise unconcerned reply. _'Let's finish up.'_

As the stranger said this, another pile of rubble further into the landslip was hurled aside and the Brute roared in anger.  
The stranger didn't even bother passing comment, just hurling some more magic at the brute, followed by a sustained barrage of gunfire, mirrored by Rankin's passenger who seemed to have a preternatural ability to hit the Brute in it's comparatively tiny head.

Inside of ten seconds the brute collapsed dead.

The stranger then set off over the landslip at a run almost unbroken by the uneven surface and the rubble. He vaulted over up-jutting rocks as if they were no concern until he was at the other end of the beach standing before a distortion of the air that Rankin was noticing for the first time.

'_Any ideas?' _The stranger asked.

The creature beside Rankin was silent a moment and pulled up an orange gauntlet of it's own which it consulted a while longer.

'Try using your biotics on it, Crane.' The creature suggested.

Rankin was on the verge of asking what 'biotics' were when the stranger hurled another blue sphere at the distortion, which promptly began twisting in on itself.

'That seems to have done it.' The creature said.  
'_Alright, crisis averted. Come on in, we'll pull up a rock each and I suppose Tiras and I have got some answers to give. Whether you believe them or not is up to you, flyboy.'_ The stranger said.

Rankin was all to happy to oblige.

There were a million questions he wanted to ask from who these two were, what the demons had been, what they'd all been doing on the beach and where they'd all come from to what sorcery did they practice and where had they acquired such ridiculously lethal weapons.

**And that is chapter one.**

**And it's probably only going to get crazier from here.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

And The Sky Fell…

**Disclaimer: See chapter One.**

The Cliffs of Dover, 1805

When Levitas landed, the creature that had been riding beside Rankin sprang down and quickly ran up to the stranger in the blue armour.

'Are you well, Captain?' Levitas asked, turning his head slightly to inspect Rankin, his anxiety evident.  
'I am quite fine, some of which I can thank good fortune for, the rest, to that fellow in the armour and you for being so prompt when summoned.' Rankin replied. It sounded wooden, even to his ear, but Levitas looked quite relieved and took a step around him to inspect him from another angle; no doubt making sure to his satisfaction that he was actually fine.

After a moment, the stranger and the creature he'd sent Rankin and Levitas to rescue approached, removing his balaclava-like helmet as he came, revealing an exceptionally pale face framed by currently sweat-plastered black hair. The most disconcerting thing about the fellow however were his strikingly violet eyes,-a colour entirely unnatural and Rankin actually took a step back when he perceived the detail.

'It's the eyes isn't it? Creeps most people I meet out.' The stranger said, sounding somewhat unconcerned. 'Ivan Crane. Alliance Marines, currently fighting in the N7 SpecOps teams due to a FUBAR chain of command.' He introduced, extending a still gauntleted hand.  
'Captain Jeremy Rankin of His Majesty's Aerial Corps, dispatch service and this is Levitas.' Rankin replied, noting how Mr Crane eyed Levitas with a wary, assessing look. _Probably trying to concoct the quickest way to kill him if he had to._ Rankin mused.  
'Right.' Crane said, sounding half bewildered half exasperated. 'Your…friend…sapient?' He asked.  
'Yes.' Rankin replied shortly. Odd, how a question asked in total ignorance about dragon intelligence could make him feel so defensive and guilty about his treatment of Levitas when the open disapproval and frequent threats of physical harm from the other aviators didn't even rate apathy anymore. 'And what of your friend?' Rankin asked.

'Sapient and probably far more knowledgeable than you.' She replied. 'Tiras'Mial vas Koliran.' She added directly afterward. At Rankin's blank look she sighed. 'Just call me Tiras.'  
'Pardon me for being rude, but what exactly are you?' Rankin asked, addressing Tiras.  
'A Quarian. Not surprised you haven't heard of us.' Tiras replied. Rankin got the feeling she was taking great delight in the situation.  
'Well, that's all very well, but would you mind explaining what the devil those things were? And where the devil did you two spring from, for that matter?'

'The short version is that we shouldn't be alive right now.' Crane replied.

'We pulled a suicidal assault on a walking, sentient weapon of mass destruction called a Reaper.' Tiras added. 'Fired roughly twelve high-explosive missiles into the mouth of it's main weapon and caused a catastrophic chain reaction that blew it apart. We got caught in the fallout, along with the rest of our company, not to mention the Reaper forces.'  
'You mean there're more of you?' Levitas asked nervously.

'If anyone else is still alive.' Crane replied bitterly.

'I beg your pardon, but that still doesn't explain all that much.' Rankin said, desperately trying to make sense of what this odd pair was saying with no success.  
'And I'm trying to remember since when exactly Earth was inhabited by dragons.' Crane deadpanned. 'So far as I can remember, they were just myths.'  
'You mean you've never seen a dragon before?' Levitas asked. 'You're taking this a lot better than most people do the first time.'

Rankin dearly wanted to tell Levitas to stop talking and by extension making the conversation more awkward than it already was, but Crane seemed to be perfectly at ease as he replied:

'I've talked with stranger than you. Hell, I've been fighting alongside Tiras here since the Reapers hit Earth six months back. You couldn't be any less familiar than she was at the time if you tried.'

'Crane, I think you're getting ahead of yourself.' Tiras said. 'Start at the beginning. What year is it right now?' She asked.  
'1805.' Rankin replied briefly. Oddly, Tiras stiffened as if she'd been poleaxed.

'And that, right there, is where all the 'awkward' is coming from.' Crane said. 'We were thrown back here from the year 2186. No dragons though, which leads me to believe there's a bit more to it, but…ah, even from my perspective it's crazy.' He explained.  
'21-' Rankin began faintly.  
'-86.' Crane finished with false cheer. 'Three hundred and eighty-one years in the future. That explain why my weapons are so advanced to your satisfaction?' He asked pleasantly.  
'But- how- wha…?' Rankin broke off, trying to process what Crane had just told him.

'What was it like?' Levitas asked, his eyes alive with curiosity.  
'Before or after the Reapers invaded?' Crane asked rhetorically. 'After, it was apocalyptic: cities in ruins, the dead walked the streets and those who were still alive and were captured were taken to concentration camps by Reaper forces where they were slaughtered to make more of those abominations we just buried. For us fighting it was all that with bullets flying all around non-stop.' He paused for breath and looked out towards the sea. 'Before, well… we sailed the stars. Humans weren't the most powerful star-faring nation by a longshot. Even this very instant, there're plenty of powers that roam the stars, colonising whole worlds, going about their day-to-day business. It wouldn't surprise me if the Salarians have an observation post up there though.' Crane said, pointing upwards.

'I'm sorry, Salarians?' Rankin asked.  
'Try and imagine a humanoid that looks vaguely like a frog with two horn like projections out the back of it's head and that looks almost malnourished by human standards. That's pretty close to what a Salarian looks like.' Crane replied.

The mental image Rankin got was a very strange creature indeed.

'Anyway, if anyone else survived, you might just be meeting one or two, not to mention others.' Crane said. There's no set protocol on this sort of bullshit, so-' He shrugged. 'Getting into space a couple of centu-' He broke off as a massive thunderclap sounded above.

They all snapped around in time to see a massive off-white object wreathed in flame and scorched black in places falling out of the sky.

Rankin's jaw dropped. Even as far away as they were, the thing falling from the sky was easily the size of a mountain. And Mr. Crane's next words,-or at least the implication behind them,-simply couldn't be true.

'Sweet God. They got a dreadnought!' Crane exclaimed.  
'How'd it wind up here though?' Tiras wondered aloud.  
'Same as us I'd guess, or similar enough not to matter.' Crane replied grimly. 'See if you can't pick up any chatter, if there's any on the company's channel, try others. That ship-'

Crane broke off and Rankin yelped in pain as a blast of white noise nearly deafened him in his left ear. Judging by Crane's reaction, he'd suffered the same.

'_-I repeat, this is Admiral Susan Fletcher of the _SSV Kosciuszko, _we're going down. We'll try and ditch her close to the action and offload ground troops, but any help anyone can provide would be appreciated. I repeat,-'_

'Shit, if they try and come down around here, they'll have the entire British navy on their arses. It'll be a bloodba-'

'_Operative Crane?'_ Came a new voice.

Rankin was beginning to wonder how exactly the thing in his ear worked and how all these people had got here.

'EHCO?' Crane replied, sounding startled and at the same time relieved.  
'_Affirmative. Sergeant Mathuin and myself appear to have appeared in a small city. Judging by papers we've found, it appears we've been sent back in time. And apparently the _SSV Kosciuszko-'  
'-Is about to make splashdown. We saw her just now. What's your status?' Crane broke in.  
'_We've engaged a hunting pack of Reaper forces that seems to have been pulled through with us. Mid-tier threat level: One Brute, one Ravager, multiple Marauders, Cannibals and Husks.'_ EHCO reported succinctly, before a piercing scream sounded in the back ground. _'And one Banshee.'_ EHCO added. '_Support would be appreciated.'  
_'Copy that. We'll follow the smoke. Try and limit civilian casualties.' Crane replied, before turning to Rankin. 'You up for round two?' He asked.

'If you mean go back to fighting those creatures again, you're out of your mind.' Rankin replied.  
'It's what I get paid to do. I'll give you a cut of my next pay check if you help us out here.' Crane replied.  
'And how much is your pay check?' Rankin asked sceptically.  
'Usually anywhere between seventeen and thirty-three thousand. Sixty thousand or above if I'm crazy enough to take any of the really hazardous missions.' Crane replied, striking Rankin dumb and lighting Levitas's eyes up like candles on Christmas Eve. Rankin had taken the time during their training together twelve years previously to teach Levitas about coinage, property and how to manage finances. More to satisfy Levitas's curiosity than because he'd felt their was any reason for Levitas to know those things. Not like Captain Laurence, teaching his Imperial the same in disconnected increments without bothering with the whole or what context they belonged to.  
'You just want me to take you there?' Rankin clarified.  
'Do that and you've got a one-half cut in my next pay check.' Crane confirmed. 'I'll even talk to the idiots in Procurement and try arm-bend them into setting you up with some equipment, odds are we'll need your services in the future.'  
'All right, sir, you have convinced me.' Rankin said, with only a bare trace of resignation. 'Levitas, if you please?' He asked and the little Winchester hunched down to allow Rankin, Crane and Tiras to clamber onto his back and after they were secure, he sprang into the air and circled up.

Sure enough, a column of black smoke could be seen coming from the direction of Dover.

However, smoke could also be seen coming from the direction of the covert, a little way ahead and inland.

'To the covert at once!' Rankin called as the initial shock wore off.

Levitas immediately veered towards the nearer column of smoke, picking up speed as he did.

'What the hell? EHCO and Mathuin need us!' Crane replied, shouting over the wind of Levitas' passage.  
'If they're of similar skill to you, they'll be fine, but that's Dover covert down there and they're no better equipped than I am and they don't have your men to help them.' Rankin snapped back.  
'Get us overhead.' Crane said after a moment. 'Tiras, you and Rankin are going to the far column of smoke, I'll clean up the mess here.' He said, before passing a blocky pistol to Rankin. 'It's an M3-Predator. Not as powerful as my Suppressor, but it's serviceable and I tweaked the heat-sink so you don't have to eject it, just let it cool off.' He then drew a wicked looking knife in one hand and pulled the pistol Rankin had found in his lap from Rankin's belt and crouched just behind Levitas's wing, as if he meant to jump.

'Are you crazy?!' Tiras enquired.  
'Glad you noticed.' Crane said as they levelled off above the smoke. 'Save me a spot at the bar when we're done.' He said, before diving off of Levitas's back.

'Good God!' Rankin exclaimed, unable to look away as Crane fell towards the figure of a Brute.

Moments before impact, he was wrapped once again in blue, before he impacted the Brute's back.

He heard the Brute bellow in outrage but saw no more as Tiras directed his attention towards the smoke out towards Dover.

'Crane can handle himself. We should go and link up with Mathuin and EHCO.' She reminded.

He knew Tiras was right. Even if Levitas was just a courier beast, they both had a duty to protect England and her people. And the best way he could do that right now was gathering as many of these strange soldiers as they could.

'Very well. Levitas! Give us a good showing if you please!' Rankin called and Levitas responded by accelerating so fast he nearly knocked Rankin over backwards.

* * *

SSV _Trafalgar_ Minutes earlier, 2186

Captain George Riley was having a really bad day.

Operations CRUCIBLE and LODESTAR notwithstanding.

First, Sergeant Mathuin's team had pulled the single ballsiest and most suicidal move he'd ever seen by _taking down a Reaper destroyer with nothing but Cobra Missiles_, then his ship had been crippled and left dead in the void by Occuli fighters.

Off their port bow, the _SSV_ _Kosciuszko _was trading fire with a Reaper capital ship and the engineers were frantically trying to get the engine back in some semblance of working order while trying to maintain the kinetic barriers.

Weapons were a pipe-dream nobody had the heart to raise.

'_This is Admiral Hackett, all ships disengage.'_ Captain Riley bowed his head as he watched the engines of the _Kosciuszko_ sputter and die as the Reaper scored another savage hit with it's main cannon. One more and she'd go critical and they'd all be dead.

'Captain, our censors are still half blind, but they're picking up a massive spike in dark energy, centred on the Crucible.' Reported one of the censor operators, sporting minor burns from when her console had sparked earlier. Ensign Abigail Tanner, if he remembered correctly.

'Never thought I'd say this…but it's been a good run, Human.' Riley turned to his left and saw Mero Poltak,-a Batarian Sentinel who's squad had been forced to remain aboard due to enemy fighters being too thick to chance a redeployment and who'd been a grade-A pain in Riley's arse since the Batarian remnant had joined the SpecOps teams,- standing at the console to the right of the galaxy map, that had recently been manned by Lieutenant Jeffries, that poor bastard currently being treated for burns in the med-bay.

He was offering his hand and if Riley wasn't mistaken, his stance meant he'd accepted there was no way they were surviving the next few minutes.

'It certainly has been.' Riley agreed, accepting the handshake, before releasing and crossing to an innocuous access panel.

After opening it and rummaging a bit, he pulled out a stashed bottle of whiskey and a pair of glasses.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' Riley said as he poured a measure of whiskey for himself and Mero, before handing the Batarian one of the glasses. 'It's been an honour. See you on the other side.' Having said this, he knocked back the whiskey in one go as outside, the Reaper began charging one final shot.

Then, everything went sideways, although Riley couldn't quite put his finger on what had happened.

'Status?' He groaned weakly, noting everyone who hadn't been seated had been thrown about as well. Miraculously, the whiskey bottle was still intact.  
'We're going down. Projected impact…Shanxi province, Northern New Chinese Empire.' Reported Ensign Tanner. 'The _Kosciuszko _is going down as well, trajectory says they'll make splashdown in the English Channel.'

Riley was more concerned about their destination.

'Do we have engines back on line?' He asked urgently.  
'Partially, we have the outer starboard and inner port engines operable, along with half our maneuvering thrusters. Drive core is stable and barriers are holding steady at… 30 percent capacity. Weapons are offline.' Tanner reported succinctly.  
'Alright, Mero, you and your fireteam strap yourselves in, you're riding this ship down to Earth with me and a skeleton crew, I want everyone else to take the shuttles out of here, one fireteam to a shuttle and however many crewmen will fit.'

'You think you can pilot a crash landing?' Mero asked doubtfully.  
'I intend to try.' Riley replied, taking his seat in the command throne and bringing up a holographic helm as he buckled himself in.'

* * *

Shanxi Province 1805, concurrently

It wasn't often Lung Tien Lien could really call herself at peace.

Her own kin, the other Tien Lung, regarded her with the same superstitious dread as most humans, bar her companion Prince Yongxing, and the Emperor.

'Has Lung Qing Han managed to charm you, Honoured Lien?' Asked a somewhat gruff voice from behind Lien. 'It is unlike you to stargaze like a yearling thinking of a suitor.' Despite herself, Lien chuckled slightly.

Of course the irascible General Chu wasn't put off by her unfortunate colouration. Quite the contraire, he usually told her to stop feeling sorry for herself and outdo others.

Lien turned to regard the older Imperial. He might've been pushing a hundred years of age, but he showed no signs of it. He was in his prime and Lien couldn't deny that between his bright scarlet colouration and golden mane he was quite handsome.

A shame he was firmly in Prince Mianning's camp with it's liberal notions and unhealthy interest in foreign affairs.

'Han has done no such thing.' Lien replied shortly. 'I was just marvelling at the stars. The sky is never this clear in Peking.'

Chu snorted.

'You mean you're trying to see if the locals were correct about the unusual abundance of shooting stars.' He stated, settling down beside Lien.  
'I've seen ten so far.' She replied.

A blazing streak crossed the sky then disappeared.

'Make that eleven.'  
'That doesn't prove anything regarding the so-called 'demons' the locals have reported.' Chu pointed out.  
'And yet we wouldn't be here if the Emperor weren't concerned enough to send us. And then there are the bodies and smashed towns.' Lien countered. 'It's probably some beast from out in the wilds of Mongolia looking for food.' She shivered at the thought. 'But that only makes it all the more urgent we stop it.'  
'Indeed-' Chu said before breaking off, tilting his head sideways as a particularly bright shooting star began falling lower than any previous and growing larger, leaving a trail of fire in it's wake, along with what appeared to be chunks breaking away from it.

His eyes widened as one of the smaller streaks suddenly changed directions and began heading straight for them.

'Up!' Chu roared, flinging himself out of the pavilion, Lien not far behind him as he circled off to the side. She felt a twinge of worry for the town below the pavilion, but for now she followed Chu as he continued his flight away from the pavilion, before he turned and began to hover.

Lien followed his example and was in time to witness as the 'streak,'-which looked remarkably like a giant brick,- came in and smashed side-on into the pavilion, gouging a divot out of the floor before rolling and coming down hard on it's bottom side, one end gently smouldering.

Lien traded a look with Chu and the pair began to cautiously approach the pavilion.

* * *

Lieutenant Gabriel Hart staggered out of the crashed Kodiak and wearily swept the area with the muzzle of his M37-Falcon grenade launcher.

His squad's shuttle had been clipped by a piece of debris from the _Trafalgar_ as she re-entered, sending them out of control and way off course.

In his career so far as a member of the N7 Slayer program and as a SpecOps member, that had been the hairiest shuttle ride he'd ever had.

'Anyone catch the licence plate on that air-car?' Asked the distinctive flanging voice of the squad's Turian sentinel, Darntea Palenor, his red facial tattoos seeming to flicker in the light of the small fire burning at the shuttle's rear starboard engine.

Their pilot, Arthur was already frantically trying to put it out.

'No Darntea, but do me a favour and don't go starting a war with the locals.' Hart replied half-jokingly, checking his Eagle had a full clip, before switching back to his Falcon.

'This looks nothing like Shanxi.' This voice belonged to a twelve foot Krogan with an axe as big as Hart was over his shoulder. His name was Weyrlok Krull and in the short duration of the war had become legendary for the mass carnage he was capable of inflicting on anything in his way.

'This is Shanxi _province_, the area of Earth Shanxi was named for.' Corrected Gunnery Sergeant William Davis, an infiltrator from the 103rd Marine division.

Of all the shuttle's occupants, Hart had his eye on the infiltrator the most.

He'd been tapped for N7 training just prior to the Reaper invasion and upon encountering Hart a week or two into the fighting had practically glued himself to Hart's side. Not that Hart was inclined to complain. Davis was an _artist_ with a Valiant.

The rhythmic _thwump _of air being displaced by massive wings brought Hart's attention to the eastern side of the structure the shuttle had crashed in and the sight he beheld nearly caused him to drop his Falcon in shock.

Two dragons, one snow-white and the other blood-red were flying in towards them.

'Alright people, no sudden moves.' Hart said in a deadly serious tone, folding his Falcon away as he said this.

The other three soldiers turned to the direction Hart was facing and did the exact opposite of what Hart had just said:

Krull drew his gigantic axe, while Palenor encased himself in orange tech armour and pulled his Phaeston from over his shoulder.

Davis meanwhile, seemed to have frozen and didn't seem inclined to so much as twitch.

'If you value your life, do not engage.' Hart stated. Noting that Arthur had dowsed the fire and had decided to retreat back into the shuttle with his pistol with the assorted personnel who'd evacced the _Trafalgar_ in his shuttle.

The pair of dragons alighted in front of Hart and his squad with surprisingly little noise and eyed them warily.

Hart put the big red one as the bigger threat, subtly coiled as if to spring as he was.

'Who are you and what is the meaning of attempting to kill us?' The red one demanded in Mandarin.  
'Believe me, if-' Palenor didn't get any further in his reply as Hart made a sharp slashing gesture with his hand and glared at him behind his mask.

'We weren't trying to kill you.' Hart said, relying on his helmet's translator to relay the words. 'Our shuttle,'-Hart gestured to the currently grounded vehicle behind him,-'got hit by a bit of debris while our ship was trying to crash land and sent us off course.' He explained. 'As to who we are…I am Lieutenant Gabriel Hart of the Human Systems Alliance. The one doing his best impression of a statue is Gunnery Sergeant William Davis, also of the Human Systems Alliance.'  
'And the other two?' The red one demanded.  
'Let's put it this way: they're not from around here. The big one with the axe is Weyrlok Krull, a Krogan Mercenary, originally from a world called Tuchanka. The one with the glowing armour is Sergeant Darntea Palenor, a Turian from…Taetrus wasn't it?' Hart asked, glancing sideways at Palenor, who nodded briefly.

The red one didn't relax, just continued glaring.

'And what are you doing here?' He asked evenly.  
'Told you. We crashed. Our ship, the _Trafalgar_ took a big hit that knocked us out of orbit, you probably saw her, big flaming streak, over…'-Hart took a moment to get his bearings,-'there.' He said, indicating a parabolic path that ended at a slightly glowing patch of horizon to the north.  
'And before that?'  
'Fighting against a galactic extinction level event.' Hart replied seriously.  
'I have no idea what you're talking about.' The dragon rejoined.  
'Do you have any idea what the New Chinese Empire was thinking keeping you and your friend here hidden when you could've been helping us fight then?' Hart asked sweetly.  
'New Chinese Empire?' The dragon asked, a note that might have been confusion entering it's voice. 'There is only one Chinese Empire, what lies do you speak?'

'What year is it?' Hart asked after a moment. It was a nonsequitor, but if the dragon knew, it'd make things so much easier to have a context to work with.  
'1805.' He,-at least, by this point, Hart figured it was a safe assumption going by voice,-replied briefly.  
'Well, believe it or not as you will, but we've been thrown backwards through time three hundred and six years.' Hart deadpanned.

'A likely story.' The white dragon who hadn't spoken replied.  
'Do you have a better explanation for our weapons, armour and the shuttle?' Hart replied. 'Let's start at the beginning, shall we?' He added conciliatory, sitting down cross legged and motioning for Krull, Palenor and Davis to follow suit. 'It all started three years back when a rather decorated officer by the name of Marshal Shepard saved a colony called Eden Prime and inadvertently used an advanced piece of technology left behind by an extinct star-faring race called the Protheans…' Hart began, wondering how on Earth he was going to sell this to an audience obviously more sceptical than the Citadel Council had been.

_Codex Entry: Historical: 'The Little Apocalypse'_

_On June 28__th__ 1805 on the Human calendar, a high-intensity dark energy anomaly appeared for several minutes above their homeworld, 'Earth' and even allegedly opening wormholes on the planet itself._

_Some anecdotes suggest that in some areas, wormholes had opened as far back as two weeks earlier, dumping debris, automatons similar to the Quarian's Geth and the cyber-organic-constructs known as 'Reapers' on the planet's surface._

_The more well-known anomaly of July 5__th__ disgorged more such flotsam from the same unknown source, along with ships and soldiers of various species._

_What followed across most of the planet were the more damaged ships falling from orbit, most of which managed to dump enough momentum to avoid doing major damage, along with the local Human populace coming into contact with the soldiers that had been caught in the anomalies at the other end, along with the Reapers._

_Invariably, wherever contact with Reapers was made, violence broke out._

_The following months came to be known to both local Humans and stranded forces as 'The Little Apocalypse.'_

**Codex entries A La '**_**The Last Spartan?**_**'**

**Why the hell not?**

**This is an expansive Crossover and really, there's only so much I can put into a chapter.**

**Codex snippets seem like a good way to put things in a larger context, to show how the Mass Effect characters end up effecting things here.**

**And they will effect things in a very major way.**

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who Followed and Favourited and here're the mentions for the Reviewers:**

**Hideout Writer, aDarkOne, artark and Guest.**

**To anyone who's decided to Favourite me as an Author or Follow me as an Author:**

**Thanks for your interest, but I'm afraid my folder of 'Kept Messages' regarding that sort of thing is starting to fill up to the point where it's hard to find people I haven't previously acknowledged.**

**And yes, I do keep those notifications: Every Story Favourite, every Review, every Follow.**

**At present, the file I keep this stuff in is currently 41 pages long, most of that is fanfiction-related.**

**You people really know how to make a guy feel appreciated.**

**I'm not sure whether my near total silence will continue, but hopefully not.**

**I'm still working on stuff, plotting out sequels and the like, but right now, this story is my baby.**

**Chapter three is nearly done and I've got some idea of what chapter four is going to cover.**

**So hopefully, I'll see you next week with a new chapter.**

**Also, there's a good chance I'll be starting a Creative Writing course at uni next year (where have ye gone, 2013? It seems like it was only January yesterday...) So I make no guarentees about an upswing in chapter-posting.**

**Happy new year.**

**See you then.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

And the World Burned

**Disclaimer: See Chapter One.**

Dover Covert, 1805

When Crane hit the Brute, he projected his biotic corona straight into it, driving it to it's knees and cushioning his impact as he grasped it's stringy neck in one hand, before slicing it through with a reverse-grip cut before it could rise. The massive hulk fell flat as it's head dropped to the ground and rolled away.  
A trio of shots from his Suppressor dropped the Cannibals, before he switched to his Lancer as he searched for more hostiles.

None.

He set off at a jog along the wooded path and abruptly found himself in a clearing. A gunshot rang out and a bullet ricocheted off his barrier, causing Crane to swing behind the nearest tree.

'Hold!' He called around the tree. 'Friendly, coming out!' He walked back around the tree, rifle stuck in the air along with his other hand.

This time, he noticed the clearing was occupied by a gigantic dragon, easily three times as big if not bigger than Levitas and probably massing a lot more. He looked down at Crane with a pair of baleful orange eyes that held a look Crane was more used to seeing in the eyes of Krogan: checked anger.  
He was coiled protectively around a large building with a hastily thrown up barricade around it, with people clutching flintlocks crouched behind it or in the building's windows.

Judging by the amount of bullet holes both had been subjected to, it was a miracle they weren't dead.  
The corpses strewn on the ground indicated that they were good shots as well: The only way they could've been this successful at killing Reapers with flintlocks is if they had've shot something vital.

Suddenly, Crane's left foot slipped in a patch of mud and a hissing noise indicated his armour was corroding. He quickly wiped his foot off and kept walking, careful where he put his feet this time.

So, the dragon spat acid? That explained a lot. Considering the lack of Ravagers, Swarmers and the fact the acid had been a different colour and consistency, it was the only sensible conclusion.

'That's close enough.' The woman who'd just spoken had a wicked looking scar down the left side of her face and had her brunette hair in a severe pony tail. Her build was reminiscent of Rafaela Enriquez, a N7 Demolisher Engineer Crane had had the pleasure of deploying with on several hellish missions against the Collectors with and judging by her general unkemptness at present, she was just as handy in a close-in fight. Considering it was 1805 and feminism was nowhere near being a thing yet, that was a very interesting development.

Crane complied, collapsing his Lancer onto his back as he did, before removing his helmet.

'Who are you?' The woman asked before Crane could speak.  
'Corporal Ivan Crane, Systems Alliance Marines.' He replied. 'Looks like you've had a fight of it.'  
'That we have, although with Excidium on our side, it was hardly a fair one.' The woman replied.  
'Well, I'd be on my way to Dover now to help contain the situation there, but a man named Rankin said you needed my help more. So what's the situation, ma'am?' Crane asked.

The look of surprise on the woman's face was total, but to her credit she recovered quickly.

'About half an hour ago, those things wandered into the clearing and when one of my midwingmen challenged them, the lot of them shot him, then turned those damn guns of theirs on everyone else. If Excidium hadn't have knocked them down then sprayed them, we'd have been dead in short order. Judging by the racket from everyone else, they're similarly pressed. A few couriers and light fliers tried to take off and see what was going on, but these things seem to have some field guns. Poor bastards never had a chance. We managed to put this barricade together and we've been hunkering behind it ever since, repelling attacks. And these things take some killing, not to mention the big ones.' The woman replied.  
'Sounds like you've done rather well under the circumstances.' Crane replied. 'Be that as it may, best you can do right now is try and link up with anyone else still alive and try and clear the area. After that, I need to get to Dover, the city is under attack as well.' He explained.  
'And you're going to do all that are you?' The woman asked.  
'With or without your help.' Crane replied evenly. 'Although it'd make things a lot easier on everyone if we worked together.' He added.  
'How do I know I can trust you?' The woman asked.  
'I killed another scouting force headed this way when I got here. It had one of the big ones in it. That enough for you? Or do you want to waste time and stick around until another hunting pack shows up and fight together and mutually earn each other's trust in a touching display of human unity?' Crane asked scathingly. 'I wouldn't have fucking bothered talking if I were here to kill you. And I certainly wouldn't have put my gun away and taken off my helmet.' He added, projecting his voice forcefully without actually shouting.

'I think you might've met your match in oration, Jane.' The dragon said with a touch of amusement. 'He looks like he's good in a fight any road.' He added, sounding as if he approved.  
'Glad I meet your standard of approval.' Crane replied, inclining his head to the dragon,-his voice containing the barest trace of a sarcastic 'no shit Sherlock' remark,-then snapped around as a mixed group of Geth Troopers, Cannibals and Collector Troopers, along with several Husks and Abominations walked into the clearing, variously groaning, gurgling and chittering.

Crane didn't bother with his helmet, he drew his Lancer again, before projecting a Singularity into the group, before taking off at a dead run and hurdling the barricade, before plastering himself to it and hurling a Warp field at the Reaper forces caught in the Singularity.

The resulting Biotic explosion put the Husks and Abominations out of the picture and staggered the other Reaper troops close to the blast.

Crane followed up with a Shockwave and continued firing, noting that every now and then one of the men on the barricade would fire their musket, which usually resulted in a Cannibal's or Collector's head exploding.

Unsurprisingly, Crane's Lancer was the only weapon that had any noticeable effect on the Geth, but that aside, the assault force was dead in short order.

At which point Crane found himself staring at a thicket of swords.

'What was that?' The woman,-who appeared to be in charge as well as this group's spokesperson,-asked in a deceptively calm tone of voice.  
'Biotics. Kind of hard to explain right now, but let's just say I can lift stuff with my mind, shred it on a microscopic level and generally fuck stuff up with a hand gesture.' He explained. 'And no, it's not magic or witchcraft and the religious among you can keep your opinions to yourself if you don't want a Biotic punch in the face.' He added in a tone that brooked no argument.  
'You're not in any position to be making threats.' The woman stated.  
'I'm not the one making an issue out of this.' Crane replied tensely. 'Besides, after seeing that, do you _really_ want to pick a fight with me?' He asked rhetorically.

'He's got a point there, Captain.' One of the men still manning the barricade instead of threatening him with a sword commented.

'Alright then, we'll be right behind you on Excidium.' The woman said, sheathing her cutlass. 'We'll go around as many clearings as we can, gather anyone who's still alive and get back to the headquarters and go from there.'  
'Sounds like a plan.' Crane said, opening his omni-tool. 'While you get ready, I'll try and requisition some equipment. I don't know about you, but I need ammo. And I'm sure you'd appreciate some better weapons yourself.' He added, frowning as he managed to get a line through to the _Kosciuszko_. It was patchy, but stable. 'Command, this is Corporal Ivan Crane, anyone still alive in there?'

* * *

Off the coast of England, English Channel 1805, concurrently

Admiral Susan Fletcher looked at the chaotic scene her CIC had devolved into since making splashdown and nodded in satisfaction.

To the untrained eye, there was no order here and nothing could be accomplished.

She saw different; every member of her bridge crew was currently attending to their assigned duty with diligence, if the various status reports she was seeing were anything to go by.

Her new favourite aid, a Geth platform dubbed Abacus was currently filtering any that required her attention. There were more of those than she really liked.

'Do we have communications?' She asked, pushing strands of blonde hair out of her eyes.  
'The ship's Quantum Entanglement Communicator is still operational, but traditional communications are weak at best.' Abacus replied. 'I believe it has to do with the lack of communications satellites in orbit. The only signals I am reliably receiving appear to be from ships in orbit and AI platforms coming back online after the Crucible event. No Reaper capital ships reported, although chatter on ground force channels suggest multiple engagements with Reaper ground forces, although again, due to the scarcity of communication infrastructure such as was deployed at the start of the operation, connection is poor and reports are plagued by interference. An accurate picture of proceedings is hard to assemble.' It replied.

'Keep me posted.' Admiral Fletcher replied, then turned her attention to the situation in engineering:

Their engines were offline, but apparently the Mass Effect core was still operational and keeping the _Kosciuszko_ light enough that coupled with the air inside, it floated. They'd need several shuttles or more likely frigates to get her back in the air, but Chief Engineer George Michaels assured her that he had his people working to get the engines functional as quickly as possible.

'Admiral!' Called one of the communications officers from a little way down the central console. 'I've got a SpecOps soldier here demanding to be patched through to whoever is in charge.' The man reported. 'Says he's got some intel that you _need to know._' The comms officer's tone implied finger quotes.

Admiral Fletcher digested that statement for a second.

It took a lot of balls or just outright stupidity to demand to speak to an Admiral. Especially in circumstances like the present. On the other, that only lent weight to the theory that whatever this soldier was trying to relay was important.

'Patch him through.' Admiral Fletcher ordered.

The face on the other end of the line was that of a spacer.  
Few other humans had that bone-white complexion or unsettling violet eyes,-one a consequence of not being exposed to natural light for long periods of time and the other a mutation brought on by some random quirk of living on a space ship while pregnant as opposed to on a planet.

'Who is this?' Admiral Fletcher asked. 'I've currently got a dreadnought I'm trying to organise, you realise?'  
'_Corporal Ivan Crane, ma'am.' _The spacer said, snapping a crisp salute. _'I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm currently keeping company with what passes as the local resistance down here. Hey,' _Crane motioned for someone off screen and presently he was joined by a bewildered looking woman in what appeared to be a green coat cut in the Georgian fashion of the early 1800s.  
'Who're you?' Admiral Fletcher asked. If she didn't need every soldier right now, she'd bust Crane out of the Alliance so fast he'd never know what hit him. As things stood, she didn't have much choice.

'_Captain Jane Roland of His Majesty's Aerial Corps, on Excidium.' _Captain Roland replied, motioning to her left. Crane obligingly directed his omni-tool in that direction and Admiral Fletcher found herself looking at a colossal creature, easily the size of a Harvester, with vivid orange eyes, which was currently looking down on proceedings with interest.

'_Yes. He's sapient. Yes, he's pretty much the only reason anyone at this little stockade hasn't been killed by a Ravager or Brute. Yes, I'm calling for support anyway, owing to the fact there're Tinmen and Bugs in the area as well.' _Crane said when no response was immediately forthcoming from the Admiral.  
'Anything else?' Admiral Fletcher asked. 'Anything else you feel I should know?' She asked, resisting the urge to collapse into her seat.  
'_It's roughly 1805 and the closest thing to a reliable firearm on the planet right now is Excidium and his ilk. Or at least, the closest thing to matching a Mass Accelerator. There're flintlocks aplenty though.' _Crane replied. _'Also, the rest of my squad is currently giving an advanced showing of _The Alamo _in Dover against Reaper forces. I'm not over-concerned about them,-they know what they're doing,-but wrapping that up quick is probably in the best interest of the civilians and the city infrastructure, such as it is.' _He paused for a second, then shrugged. _'Ah what the hell; also, if at all possible, could you send some support my way as well, along with every weapon I've been issued? Or a few dozen standard issue equipment packs? Some effective weapons and some support would probably up the odds of survival of everyone currently at this military installation, and Captain Roland has implied that she's not the only one with a dragon in these parts.'  
_'Corporal.' Admiral Fletcher said in a firm tone of voice. 'Are you requesting support, or trying to order me around?'  
'_I'm requesting support, ma'am.' _Corporal Crane responded without missing a beat. _'I'm also willing to foot the bill with requisitions on those SIE packs._' He added reasonably. _'The point I'm making a piss-poor job of making though is that the odds are rather squarely stacked in the Reaper's favour here. As in, more so than usual without involving the Squids themselves.'_

The camera,-likely the Corporal's omni-tool panned to a field strewn with corpses of Reaper, Collector and Heretic Geth troops, then over the barricade and the pitifully under equipped men, women and children manning it.

_Of course he had an ironclad argument before he even opened his mouth._ Admiral Fletcher mused to herself, making a note to check the young man's file the next chance she got.

Reasoning like that was officer material.

'Alright. I'll send a fire team to reinforce. The ordnance as well. Scavenge what you can and hold that position, Corporal. Support will be there in half an hour, tops.' Admiral Fletcher relented, leafing through fire team bios until she found one that sounded about right to her. 'I'm dispatching Fireteam Charlie-Six now. Fletcher out.' So saying she killed the link, to find Abacus looking at her.

'What?' She asked.  
'Several other Fireteams reported in while you were talking along with several crippled ships. A rudimentary satellite communication and surveillance network has been established.' The Geth reported.

'That all?' Admiral Fletcher asked.  
'Affirmative, Fletcher-Admiral.' Abacus replied succinctly, before returning its unblinking gaze to its terminal.

Admiral Fletcher shook her head. One of these days, she'd get around to figuring the Geth out…Hopefully.

* * *

Excidium's Clearing. 1805

Crane closed his omni-tool, donned his helmet and cracked his knuckles. Time to go to work.

'Alright, looks like we've got to hold this place until the cavalry arrives.' He said.  
'So what do you suggest?' Captain Roland asked him.  
'Try and scavenge usable weapons out there for a start.' Crane replied, gesturing to the corpse-strewn clearing. 'Hopefully, we'll get lucky and some of the weapons will still be functional. If not,-' Crane pulled out one of his thermal clips, '-we'll be able to find some more of these, so at the least you'll have my pistol to work with.'

'You, you and you,' Roland said, pointing to three of her crewmen at random. 'Go with him and bring back any weapons that are still good and mind Excidium's acid.' She ordered. 'Everyone else keep watching we'll try and get to Mortiferus's and Crescendium's clearings. They're not too far and St. Germaine at least wouldn't be taken by surprise…' She trailed off, lips thin and slightly pale.

She was worried.

'Have you heard anything like-'

A gunshot from somewhere close by to the north of the clearing answered Crane's question.

'Never mind, someone's still alive.' He said.

With that, he set off with the other three designated scavengers, directing the group's efforts towards the Geth's weapons, pausing only to relieve a dead Collector Captain of it's Assault Rifle and a pair of Troopers of their SMGs.

One of the other scavengers, a young woman who Crane would've assumed was a schoolgirl of no more than fifteen on any other day, hefted a dented but very much intact rocket launcher from a Geth Rocket Trooper.

'Let me see that.' Crane said gesturing, handing off his own small collection of ordnance. He quickly located the power cell and a quick reading made him grin savagely:

The rocket launcher still had nearly sixteen charges and the dent was only cosmetic damage.

Better yet, EHCO had developed an overwrite program in conjunction with the other tech experts in the company and had devised a method to wipe the IFF finder systems on Geth weapons. The upshot of which meant was so long as they didn't damage Geth weapons on Heretic troops, they could turn their weapons against them.

Which was going to be a very good thing here.

'Got something else.' A young man a few years the girl's senior said, hefting a Geth Plasma Shotgun, along with a Pulse Rifle.

'Alright, let's get back to the barricade.' Crane said.

The small group complied and upon arriving back behind the wall, Crane quickly rattled off some basic information about each weapon, before demonstrating how to reload them and distributing the thermal clips the group had scavenged between the crewmen who'd just been equipped with the mass accelerators.

He took an extra moment to demonstrate to the aviators who'd received Collector SMGs how to vent heat from the weapons without burning themselves and make damn sure they knew how to maintain trigger-discipline with them.

A second run didn't yield much else beyond another couple of Pulse Rifles and more thermal clips.

'Okay, which way first?' Crane asked Roland.

Command of this little enterprise was evidently going to flip-flop all over the place.

'Crescendium's clearing first, that's where the gunshots have been coming from.' Roland replied. 'Excidium, if you would?' She asked and in response, the dragon began flailing and thrashing, trying to dislodge his harness.  
'All lies well.' He said after a moment when he stopped.  
'No ceremony.' Roland said and instantly the aviators were scrambling to their positions upon the dragon's back.

Before Crane could pass comment, Excidium's head snaked down and he picked Captain Roland up as if she were a kitten and deposited her on his shoulders.

'Are you coming aboard?' He asked Crane, looking down at him.  
'I'm going to be running and gunning.' He replied. 'Don't even try and go airborne. If you've seen smaller dragons get shot down before now, you can bet your arse that you'll attract more of the same.' Crane advised. 'Now, let's go.'

* * *

Shanxi Province, 1805

'A fascinating tale.' The red dragon said, looking down at Lieutenant Hart with glittering eyes.  
'I could go on all night; That was the condensed version.' Hart rejoined.

'That does not mean we believe you.' The white dragon stated.  
'Let me guess: you want proof.' Hart said.  
'It would go a long way to convincing me.' The white dragon said.

Before Hart could respond, Davis spoke up.

'Lieutenant, you better come look at this.' He called from his post by the main entrance to the pavilion, looking out over the village using the scope from his Valiant, an edge loud and clear in his voice.  
'Give me the short version Gunny, I'm in the middle of a conversation here.' Hart replied.  
'We've got Reapers inbound from the north, I estimate at about battalion strength.' Davis reported.

'Lieutenant, I've got Captain Reilly wanting a report.' Palenor suddenly spoke up from beside the shuttle. Weyrlok Krull was currently pacing like a caged predator in the background while Arthur and the crewmen from the _Trafalgar_ worked to get the shuttle back in working order.

'Give the Captain the short version, Sergeant.' Hart replied, before addressing the two dragons. 'You want proof? You're about to get it.' He said, before standing and picking a M-98 Widow from a storage locker in the shuttle, before joining Davis and scoping in on the Reaper forces inbound.

'Yep, I'd say your assessment is correct, Gunny.' Hart said, lowering the anti-materiel rifle. 'Palenor, tell Captain Reilly to send who and whatever he can spare, we're about to be up to our eyes in Cannibals.' Hart stated calmly.

* * *

Dover, 1805.

The scenes of devastation in the streets below were rather distressing to Rankin's eyes:

Townsfolk and travellers alike lay dead in the street where they had fallen and more of the demons,-_Reapers._ He told himself firmly. These things were _not_ supernatural. No matter what his hindbrain told him,-scurried along like ants.

Beside him, Tiras's rifle barked and one large creature with grotesquely swollen orange sacks fell to the side, quickly dissolving to a pool of some viscous-looking muck.

Their objective was still some way ahead, judging by the countdown of distance near the small blue diamond super-imposed over Rankin's left eye by the monocle.

Furthermore, all along the streets that they were flying over, it buildings looked as if they'd been damaged the gunfire and a few were even smouldering sullenly. Further into the town, several buildings were actively blazing.

All of a sudden, they came to a plaza and beheld a silver-and black clad woman flip off the end of an overturned carriage in a superb display of acrobatics, and while upside down in the air shoot a pair of the red devils Rankin had seen on the beach in the face with a weapon in each hand:  
One holding a rifle similar to Crane's and the other being a weapon he hadn't encountered yet, but seemed to fire grapeshot, or at least work along the same lines.

The woman came out of her flip having stowed the rifle mid-air, shot a third red creature upon landing, then used some kind of smoking-hot wrist-mounted blade to sheer one of the human-like creatures in half from groin to nose, then promptly vanished in a flash of sparks.

The other combatant in the plaza came hurtling into Rankin's line of sight on a pillar of fire, before impacting a Brute that had just smashed aside the carriage the woman had used as a launch pad, causing it to stagger back. A pair of booming shots rang out, before this new combatant jetted backwards on another burst of fire, before firing a third shot at the Brute when he landed and switching to yet another of those strange rifles.

Tiras was lining up another shot beside Rankin when seemingly out of nowhere, a blur of blue appeared behind the combatant that had just tackled the Brute, before resolving into a hideously tall and thin creature resembling a woman in form, but twisted and horrid and crackling visibly with lambent power.

The apparition unceremoniously seized the stranger and hoisted him into the air single handed.

'Levitas! Get that tall creature at once!' Rankin bellowed.

Levitas didn't waste time with words, just swooped in and tackled the creature head-on, roaring savagely in a manner quite unlike his usually meek self.

Beside Rankin, Tiras cursed as her shot impacted the Brute's shoulder instead of its head.

The impact jarred the stranger loose and he immediately jetted away again.

Rankin yanked the pistol Crane had given him from his belt, stood in his straps, waited until Levitas brought down a strike on this she-devil's side, then lay a hand on her shoulder and unceremoniously jammed the pistol between her teeth and pumping the trigger for all he was worth, until after _twelve shots_, the thirteenth blew out the back of the she-devil's skull in a shower of bone, whereupon she instantly collapsed into a foetal curl and began decomposing to dust.

Rankin didn't even have time to process his actions before a trio of shots impacted him: One in the left leg, one in the left shoulder and the third through his right side. He collapsed instantly against Levitas's back gasping in pain, the blood pounding in his ears as the three bullet wounds erupted in red hot pain.

He heard Levitas's bellow as he fell against Levitas's backand weakly held on as he hurled himself at his Captain's shooter, tearing the offending Cannibal and its neighbours apart in a frenzy, before turning, rearing and striking the Brute that had just charged him from behind with enough force to topple it backwards, before pouncing atop it and tearing at it in the same savage frenzy, despite the deep gouges the Brute's pincer had torn in his upper forearm.

'Levitas!' Rankin called weakly. He could still here gunshots, but they were more sporadic now.

Shortly, Tiras reappeared, only to have Levitas snarl at her.

'Let me to him.' Tiras snapped, sidestepping as Levitas nipped at her, not mollified. 'You can either let me patch him up, or sulk while he bleeds out on your back. What's it going to be?' She asked sharply.

'Levitas, let her by. Any help is better than none.' Rankin croaked, striving for authoritarian and failing miserably.

Levitas reluctantly crouched down and Tiras deftly undid Rankin's straps, before hauling him to the ground and fiddling with her orange gauntlet.

Rankin's pain eased remarkably as he felt something cool and sticky adhere to his wounds.

'Don't move.' Tiras said sternly, as Rankin felt the strange substance begin to solidify.  
'What did you do?' Levitas asked suspiciously.

Tiras stood, shouldered her rifle again and shot one of the spiky creatures that had just ambled out of the rubble through the head.

'Sound off!' Tiras called, followed seconds later by two answering calls of 'Clear!'

Only now did Tiras turn back to Levitas.  
'I gave your friend a dose of medi-gel.' She explained. 'He's still probably going to require surgery, but he's probably not going to bleed out and die.'  
'And this 'medi-gel' works how, exactly?' Rankin asked weakly.  
'I'll explain later, for now, we've got a city to save.' Tiras replied. 'And by the way, nice work taking down that Banshee.' She added, before hauling Rankin back onto Levitas's back as the other two combatants approached.

At a glance, Rankin could tell the taller of the two wasn't human:

Impossibly narrow waist, back jointed legs, three fingered hands and he was too tall. Then he removed his helmet and whole host of other features became apparent:  
A flat, almost reptilian face, a crest of spikes uncomfortably similar to those sported by some of the Reapers and his entire head appeared to be encased in bony plates.

The shorter of the pair appeared to be a human woman, although there was something decidedly wrong about her. The fact she appeared to be made of metal, the most obvious reason to Rankin's eyes.

'Glad you could make it Tiras.' The tall one said, his speech sounding English in Rankin's left ear, while in his right it was unintelligible. 'Who's your friend?'

Introductions were quickly made, Rankin learning that the tall one was the 'Mathuin' that Corporal Crane had referred to, while the metal woman was 'EHCO,' which turned out to be an acronym for 'Enhanced Heuristic Combat Operative,' which Rankin could only assume meant that she was trained to fight.

'Alright, Tiras, you can explain exactly why Crane isn't with you as we head for the outskirts, when we wound up here, that's where everyone was running for. The Reapers were already here.' Mathuin said.

'Pardon me, but what's the spiky one saying?' Levitas asked, confused.  
'Mr Mathuin was just explaining our next course of action and what's been happening here.' Rankin replied.  
'How can you understand him?' Levitas asked.

'I'll give you both the orientation as we go.' Tiras replied. 'Captain Rankin, I suggest you try not to move around to much and let one of us know if you start feeling pain again.' She added. 'Also Levitas, flying probably isn't a good idea right now. You'd be an easy target for any Ravagers in the area.'

'What's a Ravager?' Levitas and Rankin asked simultaneously as they started walking.

It was the metal-woman, EHCO who replied.  
'Ravagers are harvested Rachni, fitted with high-calibre cannons and used as living artillery by Reaper forces…' EHCO recited as they started walking down the street, sticking to whatever passed as cover that they could find.

It was going to be a long walk.

_Codex Entry: Dragons: General_

_One of two sapient species native to the planet Earth, dragons are the largest sapient species known and are divided into many different sub-species or 'breeds,' differentiated by size, mass colouration and in some instances attributes like the ability to breath fire or spit vitriolic acid._

_The smallest known members of the species only grow up to half a tonne or so and are generally around the size of an adult Elcor. The largest members of this species however can grow to a whopping thirty tonnes with some exceptional individuals weighing up to fifty and attaining sizes of up to sixty metres in length._

_Dragons are also almost exclusively predatory in nature, despite various, far-reaching and sweeping reform carried out in the aftermath of the Little Apocalypse and the Napoleonic War._

_Due to this, dragons are regularly employed by the Alliance in many different capacities, from roles more regularly filled by armoured vehicles, to courier work, the latter a practice reaching back for over a thousand years._

**I think I'll finish this chapter on that note.**

**I have ideas in mind for a fire team in the middle of the Tswana Empire and a largely Blood Pack force appearing in a Russian breeding ground, but both of those ideas have the same problem at present:**

**This chapter is a good size already.**

**I added in the Codex entry I included in the previous chapter that fire teams were appearing as far back as the 14****th**** of June in-story time, so those two will probably show up around there.**

**Speaking of Codex entries, I'm not entirely satisfied with how this one came out.**

**Yes, it's short and concise like the ones in the game, but at the same time I don't think it does a very thorough job of informing the reader of some of the ins and outs of the Temeraire-verse's dragons.**

**Still, I'll probably have reason to address some other aspects of them in later Codices so it isn't that big a deal right now.**

**Now, on to thanking my reviewers for last chapter:**

**ADarkOne, GoogyNoober and Culebra del Sol.**

**Thanks for reviewing.**

**See you next time.**


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